Finely Fall Apart
by Laeta
Summary: [Character Death] How am I doing? I can't let myself Fall apart. Not now. Not when I don't know If I can pull together at the end. [GC] HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAVESHIFT!


Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows: _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway. In loving memory of Inco, who stole my heart with one beautiful note of her voice. B8kworm, Sun Mee, this is my tribute to her. For everybody who has supported me, in particular, I thank you sincerely. Thanks to Allison, Juliet, Marianne, Angie, Lauri, Mac, and Susan for their words.

Summary: How am I doing? / I can't let myself / - Fall apart. Not now. / Not when I don't know / If I can pull together at the end.

Rating: PG

Archives: the Graveyard, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Follows "Never Question a Dream". There is character death here, so please, have a care. October challenge.

***** ***** ***** 

Title: Finely Fall Apart

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


He asked me at once:  
How are you doing?  
I answered the usual  
- I am always fine.  
I saw the flinch, clear in fluorescent light.

He asked me again  
How are you doing?  
Perpetually,  
I will be a child  
Under his tutelage and tender care.

A third time he asked  
During the funeral  
Where I cried and grieved,  
Missing my mother.  
He shed nary a tear of his own grief.

Four nights past, again.  
How are you doing?  
In that gentle voice,  
Quiet. Hesitant.  
I fell apart to that repeated poll.

I asked him, point blank,  
How he dare ask me  
Especially when  
He continued life  
As though her death made not a lasting dent.

At least I had known  
She knew I loved her.  
Through the fights, delights,  
She knew I loved her.  
I demanded, where were his words of love?

His answer? Surprising.  
For a century's quarter,  
She knew he loved her.  
She knew he cared. Knew!  
Now I knew his bleakness at her life's exit.

And then I asked him:  
How are you doing?  
Bleary eyes, aged face.  
Truth reigned in silence.  
Pain? Yes. Grief? Oh, yes. Guilt? Perhaps. Love? Still.

Yet he replied not.  
How are you doing?  
A second query.  
Exasperation.  
Why don't you let yourself cry? Let her go!

No tears loitering.  
I thought I knew him.  
He railroaded life  
And forgot his own.  
At last, an answer: I miss your mother.

How am I doing?  
I can't let myself  
- Fall apart. Not now.  
Not when I don't know  
If I can pull together at the end.

Such strong emotions;  
Even at twenty years,  
I knew of the depth.  
Love unrequited,  
Dams broken, he told me of their story.

Once upon a time,  
He loved my mother.  
Took a chance and shared.  
Not a yes, nor no,  
For his declaration. He would wait. Wait.

Cherished friendship bloomed.  
Closer than lovers,  
Ever separate.  
Things change; feelings don't.  
One day, this was no longer adequate.

Small steps began slow  
Sways and twirling, this  
Beautiful dance of  
Friendship to courtship,  
Built upon foundations so durable.

I miss her, he says.  
Those words so simple.  
He has yet to cry.  
He does not know yet  
His strength without hers to support his own.

That eventful night,  
A lovely portrait  
Commenced to unfold.  
Vivid reds and gold  
Separated by bold strokes of black paint.

The colors, I think,  
My mother lived in.  
And at its finish,  
How are you doing?  
It asked; I know my mother was asking.

I stared back at it,  
Amazed I captured  
The stunning aura  
That made her special.  
I waited, waited like Uncle Gil did.

When I did show him,  
Like the way snow drifts  
In vacuous quiet  
Finally, he cried.  
Coming apart like snow - finely powdered - falls.

How easy it is  
To hold a true north  
In the perspective  
Of a bystander.  
In reality, we thrash asunder.

His whole life revolved  
Upon the career  
That first caused their link.  
Nights and days reversed,  
I wondered when Uncle Gil's compass changed.

To me, the shifting  
Took the lifetime of  
A solitary  
Breath - in, hold, and sigh.  
October twenty-fourth, two thousand two.

I saw him one morn,  
Eating their mixture  
Of dinner and fruit -  
So ordinary,  
A scene played out numerable times past.

Then another morn,  
An ambience flipped,  
More settled, content.  
And Uncle Gil's smile.  
October twenty-fourth, two thousand two.

Happy memory.  
The mantra for now  
My portrait shows Mom  
At one special time.  
In the kitchen, we all stood, sipping wine.

Toasting to success,  
My first gallery.  
Uncle Gil's black suit,  
Mom's gorgeous attire.  
I sold my first painting, my future's call.

Clearly I recall  
The pride in their eyes.  
At sixteen years old,  
Naïve I was not  
I know they celebrated, privately.

Did I mind at all?  
No. He promised me  
Once upon a time  
To be my father.  
He made Mom happy; that's all I cared for.

Coming back to now,  
I ask Uncle Gil,  
Do you remember  
That time four years back?  
He smiles fondly, wiping his tears away.

I wonder on him.  
Will he visit her  
This first year solo?  
The date's fast coming.  
T-minus one hundred hours and counting.

And then, he is gone.  
Vanished, walked into  
The clear, cloudless fog.  
When I do find him,  
I wish life was devoid of harsh realism.

Shall we fast forward  
To a future, some  
Long fifteen years hence?  
Dreary, gloomy rain.  
It's October, two thousand twenty eight.

Three tombstones lined up.  
The first, worn and ragged.  
Weathered by time's pass.  
Tended carefully,  
By a daughter who loved and misses him still.

The second, arrayed  
In peaceful rest like  
She moved in her life,  
"Catherine Willows"  
Stone yet new and sharp, elegant and fair.

It separated  
Both my fathers, who  
Though they loved me, cared  
Not for the other.  
And, finally, the last cairn in the row.

Brand new, recently  
Carved and placed aground.  
Soil still sporting some  
Footprint impressions.  
Suddenly, I know there is a voice spent.

No more soft quests of  
How are you doing?  
No more unreserved  
Support and love's pride.  
Yet, a whispered condolence soothes my grief.

Glad, carefree laughter  
Floats upon the breeze.  
It rings femininely.  
Soon, perfume I know  
Is carried by the same breath of Nature.

Uncle Gil has found  
My mother again.  
I have no true doubt  
That love transcends time.  
He promised me; I know he keeps all vows.

To the end of time,  
He said, so surely.  
I believe him now.  
Reunions of love.  
In death, He joins my mother and father.

Could I admit one  
Simple, simple thought?  
For the first moment  
In my life: loneness.  
For the first time ever, I am alone.

And it's only him  
Who I miss so much.  
Always there, constant,  
Near when all else leaves,  
The rock of strength for the Willows women.

Sun rays shine outwards  
From gray thunder clouds.  
I smile. Troubles melt.  
Mortal he may be  
But spiritless he was not. Life continues.

It did for me when  
Dad's funeral passed.  
It did for him when  
Mom's funeral passed.  
It will for me now his funeral passed.

I will miss them all,  
However love binds.  
I will love and mourn  
For friends who surely  
Will be well met for one more memory.

  


***** ***** *****  
© RK 05.Oct.2003


End file.
